


Laughter Lines

by LifeBeforeDeath10



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Character Study, Comments and Kudos are very much appreciated, F/M, Hope you enjoy, Inspired by Laughter Lines by Bastille, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29472093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeBeforeDeath10/pseuds/LifeBeforeDeath10
Summary: A character study of Adrotagia and Taravangian throughout the years.
Relationships: Adrotagia & Taravangian, Adrotagia/Taravangian (implied)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6





	Laughter Lines

_I’ll see you in the future when we’re older_   
_And we are full of stories to be told_   
_Cross my heart and hope to die_   
_I’ll see you with your laughter lines_

\--Laugher Lines (Bastille) 

* * *

Adrotagia could remember a time when she and Taravangian had _not_ been concerned over the fate of the world. 

It seemed so long ago now—probably because it _had_ been long ago. Now in her late seventies, Adrotagia rememberd those young and carefree days in her youth like they belonged to a different person. 

Once, on her nineteenth birthday, Taravangian—called Vargo by her—had taken her to the site of an ancient Shin tree: one that must have been exported from that strange land centuries ago. The few scholars that they had hypothesized that it might have been carried over during the reign of the Epoch Kingdoms, when Kharbranth was part of Natanatan. 

No one knew for certain why it was there—it just simply _was._ A part of the scenery, as predictable as the highstorms. Like all Shin plants, this tree didn’t hide when the storms came. Instead it simply stood there and weathered the tempest. It stood behind a wall facing the Origin, so it had some measure of protection, it was true. Still, it was remarkable that it had stubbornly held on for so long, against all odds. 

“Why are we here, Vargo?” Adrotagia asked, as the two laid on their backs in the shadow of the tree.   
  


“I don’t know why you would ask me of all people a question that has been plaguing philosophers for centuries.” Taravangian said in his dry voice. 

Adrotagia smacked him without looking over. He laughed softly at his own joke, then sat up and traced his fingers along the bark. 

It did not even rustle. How strange. 

She stood, and while doing so, caught a glimpse of the solemn men standing a little ways away, to give them privacy. Kharbranth might have been small, but even _they_ had the resources to guard the Crown Prince. 

She had been in a casual betrothal with him, once. And while, when the relationship started, she hadn’t thought of him in _that_ way—she still didn’t, in fact—sometimes she wondered if the betrothal had been allowed to continue, their friendship may have grown into something more. 

But that was all in the past now. 

The daughter of the King of New Natanatan had been offered to Taravangian, and the king of Kharbranth had deemed that match more suitable. Adrotagia, as the eldest daughter of a noble (which hardly accounted for anything here in the small city-state in terms of the real world) had been vastly outmatched. 

The princess was said to be arriving in a few days, after which Taravangian would spend time with only her as they courted. Being with other ladies after the princess’s arrival would be seen as improper. It was quite likely that Taravangian and Adrotagia would not exchange more than two sentences with each other after the marriage until Adrotagia was married herself, and the two couples were allowed to socialize—in the right settings, of course. 

Unfair? Certainly. But it was simply the way the world worked. Both of them were tired of fighting the system that was so permanently instated in their world. 

What she would miss most would be their talks. This would be the last time in a long, long time when they would get the chance to be casual with each other--simply being able to speak their minds was a luxury that oftentimes their situations did not allow. 

Still—why the tree? 

Taravangian studied the lightly falling leaves of the Shin succulent. “What would it be like, Adro?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Living for as long as this tree has. Seeing centuries pass. One feels like nothing could surprise it anymore.” 

She stepped up beside him and looked at the many rings around the bark. “It has likely seen so much history. If it could speak, I wonder what it would tell us.” 

“It would have so many stories to tell.” Vargo said softly. “Sometimes I envy the elders, for that. So many experiences, so many days wasted.” 

Adrotagia knew he was no longer talking about only the tree. 

Taravangian and his father’s relationship was… fine. Not terrible, but they were not exceedingly close, either. They were civil to each other in public, but in private... it was a different story. Taravangian had been the only child of his parents, and his difficult birth had significantly weakened his mother, who died a few years after his birth. The cord had been wrapped around his neck when he was born, leaving him without oxygen for a time. As a result, he had been followed by rumors of his low brain capacity all his life.

Adrotagia knew that the opposite of this was the truth.

“I’m not going to waste my life, Adrotagia.” He said, his eyes alight. “Kharbranth will never been known for its military, we’re much too small. The only reason we haven’t been crushed by passing Alethi armies are because we’re not worth the effort. But what if we became known for peace and health, instead? What if, instead of spending money for the army, we poured all of our resources into hospitals?” 

She found herself smiling. Storms, but this man’s excitement could be contagious. 

“That’s a wonderful idea. I believe you can do it.” She said honestly. 

Taravangian smiled, but his eyes looked tired in a way that a twenty-year-old’s shouldn’t look. “I’ll miss you, Adro.” 

“And I you, Vargo. But I suppose it’s for the best.” 

“I suppose.” The prince seemed miles away now. He got like this sometimes. 

“You won’t have much more opportunities to plan for conquering the world,” Adrotagia teased lightly. 

He laughed quietly. “These days that sounds like too much work. I already feel like I don’t have the time to fix Kharbranth, let alone all of Roshar. When I was younger I used to feel that I had so much time, but now I feel as if my days are numbered. So much to accomplish in this short lifespan.” 

Then it was silent for a moment. A chill wind blew through the leaves. 

“Do you fear death, Taravangian?” Adrotagia asked abruptly. 

The prince seemed mildly surprised. “That’s a rather deep question.” 

“And were you under the impression we’ve been having small talk?” 

He considered. “I don’t know… I think I fear dying simply because when I do go to the Tranquiline Halls, I will always feel like there are so many things that I haven’t accomplished.” 

She smiled. 

“What?” 

“That’s such a _you_ answer.” 

“Well, I _am_ the one saying it. What about you, Adro? Do you fear death?” 

“Yes.” 

He nodded thoughtfully. “Why is that?” 

She plucked a leaf off the tree and examined it. “Well, I suppose because it’s _death_. There’s so much unknown around it.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean? You either go to the Halls or Damnation. And if you choose a Calling and excel at it, then you’ll go to the Halls. There’s not much unknown about it.” 

Adrotagia shook her head. Taravangian had such blind faith in Vorinism. She herself was not blessed with the ability to believe simply because it was the religion she had been raised in. But she didn't want to get theological today. 

“I suppose you’re right.” She said finally. 

A gong sounded, signaling the arrival of a royal procession to the city. _She's early,_ Adrotagia thought, trying not to let her disappointment show in her face.

Taravangian looked at her with panic in his eyes. “I'm not ready."

“You’ll do fine.” 

“What if I do something wrong and interrupt the betrothal?” 

Adrotagia rolled her eyes. “The only thing that you can do to ruin this betrothal, Vargo, is have an affair with another woman and be seen doing it.” 

Their eyes met for a moment, but then she looked away and the moment was gone. “You had better go meet her.” She said, sculpting her voice to sound calm. 

“Adro—” 

“ _Vargo.”_ She looked at him with steel in her expression. “Our lives are set on different paths. We were fools to think that it could be otherwise. Go.” 

He looked back at her one last time, and then started walking down the hill to where his guards were waiting. 

Adrotagia crumbled the leaf she was holding and followed behind him shortly after.

* * *

After that day, things changed. 

Taravangian was married to the princess, who birthed a son a year after their marriage. Adrotagia’s father married her off to a noble who was almost twenty years older than her. She had two children, a boy and girl. 

She would pass Taravangian in the street, and she would notice a few lines in his face that hadn’t been there before. She would look in the mirror after she woke up one day and notice a few lines in _her_ face that she hadn't noticed. 

Dances were held occasionally, and they would snatch a few moments of conversation where it felt like they had never been apart. Then it would end and they would go a year without seeing each other. 

The King died at a ripe age of seventy-eight, leaving Taravangian the throne at forty. Shortly afterwards Adrotagia’s husband passed away, leaving her a widow at thirty-nine. 

The years passed, and life went on. Taravangian managed to appoint her as his head scribe. They began to build the hospital he had always dreamed of, making Kharbranth into a world-renowned trading port that it had always had the potential to become. 

Meanwhile, the Alethi united under a single banner for the first time since the conquest of Sadees and a tribe of intelligent Parshmen were found in the Shattered Plains. Taravangian's wife and Adrotagia's children were all killed by a sudden outbreak of a rare disease that even their hospital could not cure. 

They grieved together, and through her tears Adrotagia thought it ironic that the hospital had failed the one time it had been the most important.

At age sixty-three, everything changed. 

King Gavilar had been assassinated by the Parshendi and the Alethi moved to wage war on the Shattered Plains. Taravangian had been becoming more and more agitated, claiming he was seeing the signs of a New Desolation. 

One day, he announced that he was going to see the Old Magic and nothing that Adrotagia or his other advisors could say would dissuade him. When he came back, he was… different. He said he had asked for capacity to stop what was coming, and every day his levels of intelligence… changed. 

Most days he didn’t change much. Adrotagia and a few others developed a method of testing to see how clever he was. The first time that he became too intelligent was when they decided that some days he would not be fit to rule. 

He ordered the deaths of a simple fruit merchant and his son simply because the merchant had made a mistake in his accounting. He decreed that those who came into the hospital and could not read or write would be turned away.

It terrified Adrotagia, but when she talked to him, she realized that it all seemed so perfectly logical to him that he couldn’t understand why they all didn’t go along with it. 

When he was stupid, it was even worse than when he was too intelligent.

He cried at everything, from when Adrotagia stubbed her toe to when he was seeing the beggars on the street. He was _too_ empathetic, something she hadn’t known was possible until then. She hated it more when he was stupid. _Her_ Vargo had always been so logical, but all of that flew out the window once the Nightwatcher was done with him. 

Both situations were painful, and she cursed the Nightwatcher more than once when a new day and a new Taravangian dawned. 

Then came _that_ day. 

Adrotagia knocked on the door to Taravangian’s chambers. There was no reply. She frowned and then knocked again. Finally he opened the door, and she knew the moment she looked at him that something was different. 

A chill ran down her back. She could have sworn that even the way he moved and breathed had changed. And his _eyes..._ Stormfather. 

“You’re going to test me, I presume.” He said, his voice colder then she’d ever heard it. “Do it quickly.” 

“Vargo, are you…” She hesitated, then tried to pull herself together. "You are intelligent today, I see." 

He snorted. “Today, Adrotagia,” He said icily, “Today I can _see._ "

She inhaled sharply, laid the papers on the King’s desk and his fingers flew, filling out the most complicated problems with ease. “You are not fit to rule today—”She began to announce. 

“Yes, yes, fine. _Out!”_ He seized the pencil from her hand and shoved her out the door. She heard the lock click from behind her.

Taravangian’s son ruled the city that day as Regent, and Adrotagia couldn’t suppress an uneasy feeling. The servants had reported knocking on the door to bring the King food, but there was no reply. Some said that they could hear mutterings from his chambers. 

The next day, she entered to a room that looked like a madman’s sanctuary. 

There was scrawling over every surface aside from the ceiling, and some of the writings didn’t even look like they were in a language they knew. 

Taravangian himself looked around with wonder, a completely different man from the day before. “I did this,” he whispered, his eyes wide. “This is the Diagram, Adro. It tells us what is to come.” 

That day had been the beginning of the end.

Now Adrotagia stood in Urithiru, living among the Radiants themselves, and was preparing to betray them to the god of hatred itself. 

The Diagram had led them to do unspeakable things, and it _hadn’t come true._ It had predicted that Dalinar Kholin would turn, and he hadn’t. It had predicted that Szeth wouldn’t turn against them, and he had. A few things had turned out correctly, but not enough. Never enough. 

Now Taravangian was eighty and she was seventy-nine, and Adrotagia had caused the deaths of thousands. It had all been for the greater good, but some nights she couldn’t fall asleep, hearing the screams of the children that they had killed in the name of preserving humanity. 

At least they had been able to hide under the illusion that they were working with the coalition, but now that was gone too. Dalinar Kholin knew. He knew and he would never trust them again. 

Now, she wasn’t too bothered about this. But Taravangian… she knew how much he hurt. He had found a friend in Dalinar, and Taravangian had lost him. Vargo had always had too big of a heart for his own good. His affection for Dalinar clouded his ability to do what needed to be done.

Storming man. Storming, wonderful man. 

Today was that man's funeral. 

He wasn’t _actually_ dead, of course. But since it was almost certain that he would die a traitor's death in the next few weeks, he had been surprisingly firm about wanting a real funeral, one fit for a king.

And then, for all intents and purposes, her best friend was dead, and they would act like it.

They were all leaving, abandoning Taravangian to face the coalition's collective wrath, because they would all become targets if they were with him at the time of the betrayal. They would flee to Kharbranth, which would be the only safe haven once Odium had won. 

Because Odium _was_ going to win. It was certain. It _was_. The tiny, miniscule chance of complete victory over the Voidbringers would never happen. The Diagram had foretold it.

_(Even though it had gotten a few things wrong.)_

But no. It was over now. The plan was implemented and there was no going back. Today would be the last day that Adrotagia would see Taravangian in this world.

So many years together. Who would have guessed that this was where they would end up? They hadn’t conquered the world, or even saved it--only made their small city a safe haven from this war. 

* * *

Adrotagia breathed in and out, sitting primly in the carriage taking her to Kharbranth. The other occupants were silent. Mrall, the stern-faced man who had been with them for years, might even have been crying. 

She did not cry. She didn’t have the energy. These days it exhausted her to even walk a few paces.

The young died in this Almighty-forsaken war, and the old lingered. She was a long way from that nineteen-year-old girl who had feared death—now she almost welcomed it.

There wasn’t really anything left for her to live for. Her children were dead. Taravangian was gone. It was just her.

Only her. 

Her hand passed over her forehead, and she could feel the gouges in the flesh where wrinkles lingered. She didn’t have many laughter lines. Only furrows in her brow and dips near her mouth. 

When they finally arrived at Kharbranth, she saw that the ancient Shin tree had been destroyed by the Everstorm. Withered, finally, after holding on for so long. 

Adrotagia rested her hand on the stump, and finally let herself mourn. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading this story. If you liked this please drop a comment, they feed my muse! Kudos are also amazing!  
> Hope you have a wonderful day :)
> 
> Life before death, Radiants.


End file.
